Image
by trollnexus
Summary: The Muggle Prime Minister meets the Minister for Magic for the first time. It does not go well for anyone.


**Title**: Image

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter. Also, this is not a representation of any actual Prime Minister in history; I made this man up in my head. Any resemblance to anyone ever is purely coincidental.

**Pairings**: None

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: This is either funny or dark, depending on your take on it. Also, the main character says "Prime Minister of the United Kingdom" a lot, because he just likes the way it sounds. Yeah, he's full of himself.

**Summary**: The Muggle Prime Minister meets the Minister for Magic for the first time. It does not go well for anyone.

**Word Count**: 3,045

**Author's Note**: This was written for Round 10 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 2.

More info at the end.

.x.x.

_Image_

The new Prime Minister of the United Kingdom strolled through the offices, head held high, occasionally nodding magnanimously to whoever took notice of him. It had taken him years of practice as a politician to perfect that particular nod, and he was not letting that effort go to waste.

Inside, of course, he felt his heart hammering. Sure, becoming Prime Minister had been a lovely dream of his ever since he first entered the political arena, but he had never thought he'd actually _become_ the Prime Minister. He had known that it was entirely possible that he'd spend his entire life working for the government and never achieve this dream, and he had resigned himself to that possibility.

As he walked down the corridor towards his new office, however, he finally felt the immense responsibility settle on his shoulders—he was now accountable for the welfare of millions of people.

He stood outside the door and took a deep breath to settle himself, because although he could have tried to calm down in his new chair, he wanted to be able to open the door steadily and sedately, just like he had pictured thousands of times.

Just as he reached for the knob, however, he heard voices coming from inside the office.

He frowned. The office wasn't completely soundproof? Well, that was good to know. He wondered if there was a way to fix that, and then he wondered how it would look if he actually put in such a request.

Wait. Why were there people in the office? He thought he was the only one allowed inside, unless he allowed them in himself.

Perhaps the Canadian Prime Minister stopped by for a visit?

He scowled and shook his head at himself for entertaining such a preposterous notion. First of all, the man couldn't even sneeze in the direction of the UK without the BBC picking up on it, much less travel here. Second of all, one of the receptionists outside would have announced his arrival even if the Canadian PM had managed to get here under the radar.

In fact, they would have announced _anyone's_ arrival; people did not just waltz into the Prime Minister's office undetected, for God's sake.

He debated whether he should fling the door open dramatically like in those scenes of intrigue on the telly, but he quickly discarded the notion. It was entirely possible that the people inside the office were there for some perfectly legitimate reason, and he couldn't have them think that the new Prime Minister of the United Kingdom was anything less than sane.

He glanced around the corridor. No one else in sight, not even a security guard. Dangerous for the future, but convenient for now, as he prepared himself to do something unthinkably silly.

He pressed his ear against the door of his own office.

It took a moment to orient himself, but then he started to catch some phrases.

"…much longer, Minister? We really should have notified…"

"…to contact him the usual way. He's new, after all, which is the whole point of us being here. …we would have done it already."

"…most unpleasant, sir."

"…but necessary. We go through this every time."

"…other way, sir?"

"I believe not."

"Blasted Muggle world…"

There was a laugh. "One gets used to it."

The Prime Minister frowned. Apparently one of the speakers was called "Minister." Was it really the Canadian one? Or perhaps a different country? They spoke with a British accent, though.

He wondered what "Muggle" meant. Perhaps it was some sort of special slang; it wasn't like he knew what the young people talked about these days. His own children seemed to speak an alien language sometimes.

"…long does it take for a bloke to get here?"

"…trained to be patient?"

"I'm a little uneasy…got to him first?"

He froze. They were definitely waiting for him. Did they mean him harm? Then again, if they wanted to do a surprise attack, why were they discussing how to contact him? Unless they meant contacting an accomplice?

He turned back towards the direction from whence he came. If he alerted security now, would they get here in time? Or would the people inside escape? It didn't seem likely that they could run out unscathed, but then again they were _in the room_ with no one else knowing of their existence.

All his previous anxiety about his role was drowned out by adrenaline. He was the new Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, damn it. An elaborate and dignified title like that only belonged to a man who took action.

Before he could second-guess himself any further, he flung open the door.

"Who's—"

"_Stupefy!_"

The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was two tall men holding thin sticks.

.x.x.

"—_nervate_!"

He came back to consciousness, but he didn't feel like opening his eyes, so he just lay there. Or, well, sat? Apparently he was on a couch.

"Is…is he waking up?" asked a nervous voice.

"I think so. I saw an eyelid twitch, at least. Really, Auror Jennings, that was excessive. What has that Head Auror been teaching you?" There was some dry humour in the tone, and he almost opened his eyes to see what the other Minister's expression looked like.

The "Auror Jennings" bloke sighed. "You're going to report this to Head Auror Potter, aren't you? He'll never let me hear the end of it; I've already pissed him off more times than I can count."

He could hear a smile in the ensuing conversational pause. "No, Jennings, we'll keep this to ourselves. Harry has been through enough lately, and besides, I think our friend is doing just fine. Hello, Prime Minister. Would you do us the kindness of waking up and reassuring us that you're all right?"

Knowing that it was pointless to pretend any longer, he opened his eyes.

Standing in front of him were two men. One of them was a pale, wispy bloke who crinkled the corners of his eyes every time he blinked, and he blinked a lot. The other was a tall, dark bloke with greying hair and a steady face that hardly ever blinked. This latter was probably the "Minister."

"What…what happened? And how did you get into my office?" He sat up and stretched his arms before looking down at himself to make sure he wasn't too dishevelled. Thankfully, his suit was still immaculate.

"My apologies, Minister," mumbled the pale man. What was he called again? Oh, right, Auror Jennings. "I overreacted."

He shook his head. "But overreacted _how_? What did you _do_ to me?"

The other Minister gave Jennings a clearly exasperated look, and Jennings cringed. Then the Minister said, "That actually ties into the bigger picture, which we have come to discuss today."

"I'm listening." Especially since he didn't want them to do that…that…weird thing to him again.

"Do you believe in magic?"

"In a young girl's heart?"

The other Minister stared at him blankly, and he quickly regretted making that quip. Right. He was Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Now was probably not the time to be making song references.

"In anyone's heart, really," said Jennings after a while, when both Ministers continued to sit in awkward silence. "For our population, magic is everywhere; it's the single defining feature that sets us apart from Muggles."

"Muggles?"

The other Minister seemed to have regained his composure by now. "That is the name by which we refer to you and yours. The nonmagical folk."

He blinked. So did Jennings, but that probably didn't mean much. "I don't—"

"—believe it? I know," said the other Minister. "None of the Prime Ministers ever do, not even the most imaginative ones. We could give you a demonstration, if you'd like."

He eyed them warily. "I'd rather not end up on the floor again, if it's all the same to you."

Jennings blushed. "I assure you, I won't do anything of the sort to you again—"

"Let us do Demonstration 1A, Jennings, like we practiced," interrupted the other Minister.

"Yes, Minister." Jennings then pulled out a rubber ball, the sort one might see being juggled by a clown. He set it on the ground in between them.

Then, from inside his sleeve—come to think of it, these people were wearing billowing robes of rich shades of midnight blue and dark red—he pulled out the stick that the Prime Minister had seen shortly before his fainting episode.

Jennings held up the stick. With carefully controlled movements, he waved it and uttered, "_Wingardium leviosa!"_

As if attached to a string, the ball rose into the air; the Prime Minister gasped.

Jennings smiled. "See? Magic can be fun."

He shook his head disbelievingly, standing up and moving closer to inspect the ball. Not daring to actually touch it, he opted for waving his hand around the air above it, looking for some sort of thin wire or string. His hand met nothing but air.

"I…wow. What else can you do?"

Jennings gave a full-fledged grin. "Loads of things! Let me show you!"

The other Minister frowned. "Wait, maybe I should—"

Before he finished his sentence, Jennings waved his stick and turned the pens on the Prime Minister's desk into feather dusters.

"Incredible!" He moved over and picked up his brand new feather dusters.

"All right, Minister, now let go of those so I can turn them back—"

The Prime Minister ignored him in favour of dusting the bookshelves, which he now noticed to be sort of dusty. "So you can transform objects, too! What else can you do?"

"Now, now, Prime Minister," admonished the other Minister, "we are missing the point! Yes, magic exists, but that means magical people exist, so it's very important that we sit down and discuss—"

He ignored him, his mind still reeling with the fact that this Jennings man could change objects at will. "May I use the stick, too?"

"Oh, no, sir, it wouldn't work for you, since you're a Muggle and all, but I do take requests!"

"Those curtains over there look absolutely dreadful. Could you make them dark red, like your robes?"

"Sure—"

"_Expelliarmus!_"

The stick flew out of Jennings's hand and into the other Minister's hand, as if drawn to his own stick. "Prime Minister, I understand that this is an overwhelming revelation for you, but we really need to sit down and discuss important political matters!"

Jennings gulped and moved over to a corner, shamefaced.

The Prime Minister finally looked into the other Minister's face and realised, instinctively, that although the Jennings man was more willing to show off, it was this man that had the true power.

"All right, Minister, I concede your point. Let us indeed discuss important political matters. First of all, what is the full extent of your…magical ability?"

The other Minister took a seat next to him on the couch and nodded thoughtfully. "We have our limitations, of course, but over the centuries we have developed many techniques for magic-wielding. There are many usages to which we direct our magical ability, such as—"

"Can you cure sickness?"

The other Minister blinked once. "Well, to an extent. Most of our illnesses can be treated with potions, although there are a few useful Healing spells for diagnoses and quick repairs. We're still working on cures for other ailments, and being magical in and of itself creates many other concerns that Muggles do not have."

"How about famine?"

The other Minister shook his head. "We cannot conjure food out of thin air, but we can keep existing food fresh for a longer time."

"And war?"

"We recently got through our own war, actually. In fact, this is a good place to bring up the fact that our relationship is of the utmost importance. You see, you and your predecessors are the few Muggles to ever have the privilege of knowing of our existence, and it is a privilege given to you through necessity. You see, the only way our people can live in harmony with yours is for our existence to be completely secret. We've tried to coexist openly in the past, but it never really worked out."

The Prime Minister shook his head. "I can't imagine why not. We could live symbiotically, can't we? After all, who wouldn't value the knowledge you have to share with us?"

The other Minister frowned. "I do not understand your meaning."

The Prime Minister waved vaguely in the direction of his stick. "You have so much power! Why, with the few things you've already demonstrated or explained to me, we could already be living in a better place! For example, if a building collapses onto people in a fire, we'd be able to just levitate the rubble and then heal them with magic. No one would have to die such a painful death anymore!"

The other Minister shook his head. "And what would happen if we did manage to save those people? They would not be grateful for the gift of life; they would immediately demand answers as to how they were saved, and then they would try to utilise us to do more for them in the future."

"And why not? It seems incredible, what you people can do! We would pay you generously, of course, or enter into an agreement."

"You don't understand. We do not wish to—"

At this point, however, the Prime Minister's colour had risen in his cheeks, and he was beyond hearing what the other Minister had to say. Here he was, facing the most powerful force in the universe. He had the potential to really change the United Kingdom, beyond pretty words and verbose ordinances. His very blood hummed with the possibilities that were unfolding before him. How did his predecessors not take advantage of this relationship before now? Had they been too busy cowering at the unknown?

"Just imagine! A world with less sickness! Food that doesn't rot! We'd all be healthier and live longer, thus creating opportunity for more technological advancement! Why, it sounds like a utopia!"

"That's the key word, Prime Minister. Utopia. As in, a place that does not exist." The other Minister was standing up now, his expression severe and no longer benevolent. "Have you not been listening to me? We tried to coexist before, by doing just that, and what was the thanks we got for it? Enslavement and/or persecution. Getting burned at the stake. Centuries of being forced into hiding—"

"But we are in a more enlightened age now! People are open to anything, as long as they can see the good in it. You wouldn't have to hide anymore—why, you could just go out in public with the rest of us, and live normal lives!"

"As labourers."

"No, as respected partners. What do you and your people wish for, Minister? We could give you anything you want in exchange for your help and cooperation."

Jennings leaned in towards the other Minister, and the Prime Minister realised with a start that Jennings must have been approaching him throughout the course of his heated speech. He hadn't noticed; the man was so quiet.

"Minister Shacklebolt, I think Scenario Delta is happening right now."

The other man looked at the Prime Minister and then at Jennings, the corners of his mouth pulled down. "Scenario Delta hasn't occurred in a long, long time. I was hoping it would never occur again." He gave Jennings back his stick as he said this, however, seeming resigned.

The Prime Minister did not like this coded speech. "What are you on about? What is that?"

The other Minister, whose name was apparently Shacklebolt, shook his head, seeming to look at the ground. "We had expected many reactions from you, Minister. Fear. Confusion. Perhaps even hostility."

"Well, then you're lucky it's me, Minister Shacklebolt! I don't feel fear at all! In fact, I welcome you to our land with open arms."

"That is precisely the problem, Minister. You do not seem to understand. All we want is continued harmony. The Statute of Secrecy must never be broken, for it would be catastrophic in ways you cannot even envision right now. Please, can you just accept and respect that?"

The Prime Minister shook his head. "I do not understand, either. Why must you hide? Are you not also citizens of the United Kingdom? Besides, what have you to fear from us? If anything, we should fear you."

"Exactly," said the other Minister softly.

"I don't like the look in his eyes," said Jennings, apparently attempting to whisper but somewhat failing.

"What look in my eyes? And why are you not addressing me directly anymore?"

The other Minister shook his head. "I really wish you would listen. I do not like having to do this."

"Do what?" He felt some of the anxiety creep back into his chest.

Jennings sighed and looked down at the ground. "I'll do it, Minister."

Before the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom could ask again what it was they planned to do, Jennings raised his stick.

"_Obliviate_."

.x.x.

As he sat at his desk, looking down at all the paperwork he had to read, he felt oddly at peace.

He had been nervous about being the new Prime Minister, but really, it was no different from being Party Leader, except with more paperwork, more meetings, and a little more meaning to his signature.

In the corner of his office was a very interesting portrait, one that he liked to look at whenever he was bored. A regal black man in midnight blue robes stood at a podium, staring off into the distance.

A farsighted man, he thought. One who seemed like he knew what was best for his people. A pleasing and inspiring figure to hang on his wall.

On occasion, he thought he saw the figure in the portrait move a little, but upon closer inspection he'd reassure himself that that was impossible, for it was not a digital display.

Anyway, he didn't fuss about it very much, for he had an important job to do.

He was Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, after all.

.x.x.

**Author's Note**: The goal this round was to talk about the Minister for Magic and what he does. Well, one of his jobs is to create a sort of liaison between him and the Muggle Minister, because it's very important to have communication and help for when magical things leak into the Muggle world.

I decided to write this in the Muggle Minister's POV because it was more interesting to see events unfolding through his eyes, without the benefit of prior knowledge.

As you can see, things didn't really work out on the whole liaison front, did it?

What'll happen in the future? Well, I leave it open to your interpretation. I never like when stories end too neatly, anyway. You can definitely assume, however, that Kingsley will not let things end here. The events that transpired are simply a bandage fix for now.


End file.
